


Friends With Bonefits

by Rockinmuffin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Puns, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Gender-neutral Reader, Humor, M/M, No strings attached sex, Nymphomaniac!Reader, Oral Sex, Other, Penetrating Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possibly Aromantic!Reader, Reader's genitals are described vaguely, Reader-Insert, Sans has a magic ghost dick, This story is just as much bad jokes and snappy banter as it is shameless smut, and he screws you with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockinmuffin/pseuds/Rockinmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which you're struck with an epiphany and Sans screws with you both figuratively and literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends With Bonefits

**Author's Note:**

> What's that? You need more Sans porn like you need a hole in your head? Well, joke's on you skeleton-fuckers, because you need several holes in your head. That's why we have mouths and ear-holes and nostrils.
> 
> For updates on my writing, me reblogging sin, and having an all around bad time, come hit me up at my new tumblr page, [ rocksinmuffin.](http://rocksinmuffin.tumblr.com)

You’re watching TV with Sans when you’re suddenly struck with a life-changing epiphany. You’re not sure if it’s a thought bestowed upon you by the Divine or if it’s a realization you’ve simply stumbled upon due to your own Zen-like state of mindless TV browsing. Either way, you decide it’s not the source of the knowledge that matters; just the knowledge itself. You can feel the weight of the world being lifted off your shoulders as you reach what you can only describe as a state of pure enlightenment.

You turn to your companion, eyes wide and brows raised with eagerness to share this new revelation with your fellow couch potato.

“Sans,” you say but receive no response. “Sans,” you repeat, nudging his leg with the sole of your shoe. Still nothing.

It isn’t until you’ve given up on gently nudging with your foot in favor of kicking him repeatedly in the shin that Sans finally deigns to acknowledge your existence. He side-glances at you, not bothering to exert the miniscule amount of effort it would take to simply turn his skull away from the TV.

“Yeah?”

“Sans,” you begin again, waiting for him to grunt in acknowledgment before you continue. “I was just struck with the greatest idea I’ve ever had in my life.”

“What’s that?” he asks, not sounding all that invested in what you have to say.

“We should totally fuck,” you answer.

The ever-present grin on his face falters. “…What?”

“No, seriously, hear me out! I’m a highly attractive example of the human race, you’re a fine specimen of a sexy skeleton.” You throw your arms up in the air. “Why have we yet to bang? Our lack of mutual genital touching is nothing short of a scientific anomaly. Three out of four scientists can’t understand why we aren’t doing each other.”

He raises a single eye ridge at that last bit. “What’s the fourth scientist doing?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “Probably diddling themselves to the thought of us having hot sweaty interspecies sex.”

Sans’ short bark of laughter is cut off as you shift from your position on the couch, turning your body so your back is to the television and you’re practically in his lap.

You hover over him, the weight of your thighs resting against the outside of the hardened bones that make up his legs. You don’t know the names for the specific bones but you feel like you should learn them if you plan on having sex with Sans more than just once. Knowledge of scientific bone names would be sexy to a skeleton, right? Or would spouting obscure bone names come across as creepy and fetishistic? That’s assuming Sans would even know all the scientific bone names in the first place. Is it racist to assume a skeleton would know all the scientific terms for their bones? Because you have bones and muscles and it’s not as if you remember more than a handful of Latin terms you vaguely recall learning about in grade school, most of which you’d probably end up mispronouncing if you attempted to say them out loud.

You mull over this as you trace a finger over the lines of his collarbone and watch as beads of perspiration form along his skull. The pretty blush dusting Sans’ cheekbones is a welcome distraction from the deranged ramblings of your own inner monologue and just the motivation you need to forgo all thought entirely and get straight to the meat of the matter; or rather, the bone.

You make sure Sans is looking into your eyes as you slowly and deliberately swipe your tongue across the front of your teeth.

“Oh.” Despite his distinct lack of a throat, Sans gulps. “I thought you were just pulling my leg, but you’re really serious about this, huh?”

You nod your head, the movements of your fingers switching up from simply tracing his bones to writing out dirty limericks on them. You’re about halfway through writing out _There Once Was A Man From Nantucket_ when Sans reaches for your wrist. He doesn’t force your hand away or stop your movements; just covers your palm with clammy-feeling bones that make up his palm and fingers. How bone can manage to feel clammy, you’re not entirely sure, but you like to think it has less to do with magical anatomy and more to do with your own reality-breaking sex appeal.

Your eyes slowly slide up to the skeleton’s face. Sans is still grinning, but it’s the sort of smile that doesn’t quite match the look in his eyes. The white pinpricks of his eye sockets, meanwhile, are darting back and forth from your thighs on either side of his legs then back up to your lips.

“Having sex with someone is a pretty big deal. Are you sure you’re ready for something like this? I mean, we’re not even dating. I always figured you just saw me as a friend.”

“I do,” you answer honestly.

At his blank expression, you elaborate.

“Yeah, you’re my friend and, _yeah_ , I want to bang you. I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, I like you, I trust you, and I’m sexually attracted to you.” You shrug. “Seems like a no-brainer to me.”

“Heh. Didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Usually, this would be the part where Sans will tell some stupid joke or force out some kind of word play. Instead, he merely shifts underneath you, pinpricks of lights in his empty sockets darting from side to side and looking anywhere but at you. You’ve never seen your friend act this timid before. Hell, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was afraid of you.

Oh my God, he’s _afraid_ of you.

Suddenly feeling like the world’s biggest creep and the scum of the earth, you back off.

“Hey, if you’re not interested, it’s cool. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You’re, like, my best friend.”

With your hands back at your side, Sans seems to relax a bit. He still looks a little nervous but the smile he’s wearing is no longer so strained.

“I care about you, dude, and I would never pressure you into doing something like that. I don’t want you to force yourself to do something like that just because I want to do it.” You flash what you hope is a winning smile and not a creeper grin. “I just want you to know that you’re a sexy bitch and I’m totally down to fuck if you’re ever feeling it.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “I can’t feel much of anything, because I have no skin.”

“Oh.” You laugh awkwardly and make like you’re going to pick yourself up off his lap but his hands shoot up to grab your hips to firmly hold you in place. You raise an eyebrow. “Um, Sans?”

“I’m just ribbin’ you, buddy,” he says with a wink. “I’ll admit you caught me off guard at first but now that I’ve had time to collect myself and really think about it …”

He lets the words trail off, pausing to give you a brief onceover and making a show of the way his stare lingers at where the tips of his phalanges dig into your hips. His fingers squeeze out an unexpected yelp from you.

“Well,” he shoots you a heated leer that goes straight to your crotch. “I’m always down to bone.”

He’s barely finished his sentence before you’re reaching for the fly of his pants. If he’s in a good enough mood to tell dirty skeleton puns then you know he’s okay. You pull down his zipper and dig your hand right in there, disappointed to find only the cold, bare bone of his pubis.

“ _Huh_.” You stare down at the flat expanse of white bone, your expression carefully neutral. “So I guess _this_ is why we haven’t fucked yet.”

“What? No external genitalia and you’re already at a loss? I thought you were a little more creative than that.”

You feel your cheeks heat at that. “Hey, I’m plenty creative! This is just new for me, okay. At least give me a minute to figure it out.”

The expression on Sans’ face turns smug as you continue to stare down at his hips with a look of deep concentration. The lack of a dick or vagina certainly makes things more difficult but it’s far from impossible. Heck, once upon a time you thought it was impossible to fit your own fist up your asshole. Just look at how far you’ve come since then!

You stare at Sans’ hip bones and crack your knuckles. You’ve got this. You can do it. You’re filled with DETERMINATION to fuck this skeleton.

You lean down, face practically in Sans’ lap as you carefully explore the dips and curves of his pelvis with curious fingers. You lightly graze your fingertips along the curve of his hip, moving upward to tiptoe your fingers along the little bit of spinal cord that’s exposed. You hear the shift of fabric as Sans’ fingers twist themselves in the material of his shorts. Emboldened by the reaction, you wrap your hand around the exposed bone and give it an experimental pump. Your efforts are rewarded with a series of desperate-sounding breaths coming from above you.

When you look back up, instead of the glassy-eyed aroused expression you had been hoping for, Sans is grinning wide and looking like he’s trying hard not to laugh out loud.

You scowl at him, more upset with your botched attempt at arousing a skeleton than you are at Sans. “What are you smirking at?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” He stops to cover his mouth with one of his hands. “You’ve got the same look on your face as Papyrus when he’s trying to solve a puzzle.”

“Oh my God, don’t talk about your brother when we’re about to have sex! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well,” he shrugs. “I have no genitals and I bring up my brother during sex, so that’s two things that are wrong with me.”

“Saaaaaannnnnnnns!”

He buries his face into the sleeve of his hoodie but you can still hear the muffled laughter loud and clear. You slap his hip and he just laughs harder, muffled chuckles transforming into a full-throated belly-shaking guffaw.

You slap your palm over your face. “Sans, you are the _king_ of killing the mood.”

“Makes sense. Papyrus is always telling me I’m a royal pain.”

“SAAAAAANNNNNSSS!” you whine, smacking him again. “STOP.”

“Alright, alright. I’m done. No more talking about family. Right now, it’s just _you_ and _me_.”

Gently, he takes hold of your hand, pausing to brush the back of your knuckles before guiding it back to his hips. You think you see a flicker of blue light in his left eye socket but you blink and it’s gone. All that’s left is a mischievous skeleton smile.

“C’mon, kid,” he says with a leer. “ _Rattle my bones_.”

“Alright, just hold on a second. You gotta’ be patient. Good things _cum_ to those who wait.” You make sure to finish your sentence with an over-exaggerated wink. You know, just in case your drawn-out over-emphasis of the word was too subtle for him to get the joke.

“That one was pretty bad, even by my exceedingly low standards.”

“Shut up. You loved it and you know it.”

He winks back at you. “Never said I didn’t.”

You roll your eyes at him but you can’t quite hide the smile spreading along your face from ear to ear.

“Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. No more joking around. It’s time for you to get serious. You have to focus on getting a skeleton off. Touching his spine didn’t seem to do anything for him earlier so after a moment of silent deliberation you wrap a fist around his femur and begin pumping it. “Do you… Do you like that, huh? Is that doing anything for you?”

Your attempt at seduction is met with more mirthful laughter.

“Hey, fuck you! I’m doing my best with what I’ve got!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you scowl down at him. “At least I’m _trying_ ,” you grumble.

“I’m sorry, kid, I’m sorry.” Sans wipes a tear away from the corner of his right eye socket. “I’m just messing around with you. I have a dick.”

You deliberately stare at the flat expanse of his pelvis before looking back up at him blankly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, I don’t have it _all_ the time. I only bring it out for special occasions.”

You blink slowly, expression unchanging.

“As thanks for being such a good sport about it, I’ll throw you a bone.”

His left eye socket swirls with blue magic, pseudo iris flashing blue and yellow. Next thing you know, Sans is the proud owner of a crazy magic penis.

You stare at the glowing magic ghost dick, your mouth wide open in a mix of awe and admiration.

It looks nothing like any of the many human dicks you’ve seen. Which actually makes a lot of sense when you think about it because why would Sans know what a human dick looks like anyhow? Well, assuming he’s been magically summoning himself a dick since before the monsters came back to the surface.

You privately consider yourself to be a connoisseur of cock. In your many travels and explorations you’ve come to find that no two dicks are quite the same. They all come in different colors, tastes, textures, and shapes. Sans’ dick, being the first non-human package you’ve ever seen, is exceptionally exquisite in its uniqueness.

It’s blue, for one. Not the longest dick you’ve ever seen, either, but plenty thick. It’s also smooth and glossy looking, not a vein in sight because, really, why would a skeleton’s dick have veins? Of course, when you go down that line of questioning, you risk asking why a skeleton would have a dick in the first place and you would rather not question the glowing blue gift from above—or is it technically a gift from _below_?—that has been bestowed upon you. All and all, it looks more like something silicon-based you’d find in an adult toy shop than in someone else’s pants and you can feel yourself salivating at the prospect of a new experience.

“I need that in my mouth.”

Sans waves an arm nonchalantly. “Help yourself.”

You waste little time, immediately scooting yourself close enough so that your knees are knocking along the outsides of the bones of Sans’ thighs and his dick is within comfortable groping distance. You lightly stroke your index finger along the length of it once or twice before settling for rubbing your thumb in circular motions at the head of his dick. You think you hear Sans gasp above you but you decide to ignore the breathy sound in favor of firmly grasping the base of his dick in your hands. It’s slick and smooth and warm with magic and if it feels _this good_ in your hands you can only imagine how awesome it’ll feel in your mouth.

You lean down, releasing teasing breaths of air as your lips hover just over the tip.

“Bone appétit.”

You glance up and give Sans a look. “You’re lucky I’m such a raging nymphomaniac,” you say as you give the fat cock a single pump of your fist. “Because a pun that bad could make even an oozing slime monster go bone dry.”

“Oh God…” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I think I love you.”

“Hey now! Don’t go making this weird,” you scold, lips still just an inch away from his prick.

That earns you an amused huff from Sans. “Yeah, okay, so blowing your monster friend’s magic dick is within your comfort zone but words of affection are where you draw the line?”

“Yes, _exactly_! Well, _that_ , and kissing on the mouth,” you amend then take him into your mouth so deep that your lips press to his pubic bone.

“You…” He winces. “ _Shit_. You don’t waste any time, do ya?”

You’d answer him but it’s rude to talk with your mouth full. Instead, you pull back a bit and settle for swirling your tongue around the tip of his dick before hollowing your cheeks out and applying suction. He makes a sound like a high-pitched whine that you would totally tease him for if your mouth was free. Instead, you settle for teasing the underside of his dick with light circling motions of the tip of your tongue.

It doesn’t taste like a cock. It actually doesn’t taste much like anything. Just as well, you suppose. No one really sucks dick because they enjoy the flavor. Though, admittedly, you’re a little disappointed it doesn’t taste like blue raspberries like the color would suggest. Could Sans make it taste like blue raspberries? It’s magic so, in theory, it _should_ be possible. And, heck, why stop at blue raspberries? You could have 31 different flavors of Sans’ sweet dick. The thought makes you suck on the cock in your mouth with even more enthusiasm.

“You’re really—fuck! You’re really good at…” he trails off, struggling to keep his eye sockets open as he watches you. His mouth is hanging open, a small trail of drool dripping along his jaw and down his chin.

You pull your lips off his dick, a long string of saliva still connecting his prick to your lips. You watch his eyes follow it all the way to your mouth. You sweep your tongue along your teeth and bottom lip just to watch the beads of sweat slide down the side of his skull. “What’s wrong, Sans? Don’t tell me you’re already losing your _head_?”

He laughs, bony hand affectionately cupping along the nape of your neck. “Give me a break, buddy. It’s kind of hard to form sentences when you’re doing _that_.”

“And here I thought it was hard for you to think because you have no brain in your skull.”

His deep-throated chuckle devolves into a moan halfway through when you pop his cock back into your mouth with a messy, audible _slurp_.

You think he might be close. You can feel his hips twitching, desperate to pump against your eager mouth, but you hold them firmly in place. Your thumb idly brushes along the dip of his pelvis, tracing along the smooth expanse of bone as you bob your head up and down. He gasps out your name as his fingers tighten their grip in your hair. You let out an appreciative hum from deep within your throat and are rewarded with another breathy gasp of your name.

You _really_ like the sound of that. You rub your thighs together and wonder if you can get off from the minimal stimulation and his voice alone. Best way to test that theory is to give him a reason to say your name some more.

You take a deep breath through your nose and manage to swallow around his dick without gagging.

“Holy—!”

You pull back a bit to adjust your angle then take him a little deeper down your throat. Sans’ fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, not tugging or controlling your motions so much as just needing something to hold onto.

You hum around the length in your throat and you’re rewarded with a mix of high-pitched groans of your name and desperate-sounding curses. Again, it shoots a jolt of hot pleasure to your crotch, though you’re beginning to suspect you’ll need more than his voice and the friction of your thighs to get off. You remove one of your hands from the base of his dick to rub yourself through your pants and it’s still not enough. You don’t think you’ll be satisfied until his dick is filling you elsewhere. That fact still doesn’t stop you from frantically rutting against your own hand.

You contract your throat one more time, allowing the walls of your throat to flutter against his cock before backing up to bob your head.

“Hey,” he taps the top of your head. You hum in response and he taps you again just a twinge harder so that you pause your movements. “Stop. Keep that up and I’ll be finished.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, dick still on your lips. “That’s okay with me. You can even cum in my mouth, if you want.”

His grip tightens and you _swear_ his cock twitches against your lips. “F-fuck! I… If I cum now, I don’t think I have it in me to go another round,” he says, sounding like it’s physically painful for him to admit it.

“You lazy bones.” You roll your eyes but flash him a toothy smile so he knows you’re mostly just teasing. You lift your head from his cock, giving it one last parting kiss on the tip before you pull yourself up so your hands are on Sans’ shoulders and his erection is pressed to your stomach.

Sans looks eager to just stick it in already—and, truth be told, so are you—but one of you has to be the responsible adult in the situation and right now it looks like it has to be you.

You place a hand on Sans’ shoulder, holding him back. “Do you have any condoms?” you ask.

“Yeah, sure,” he snickers. “Ketchup or mustard?”

You smack his shoulder lightly. “Not condiments, you bonehead! _Condoms_!”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Why would I?”

“SANS!”

He gives you a look. “Why would I need one? Monsters don’t reproduce the same way humans do and my dick is _literally_ made of magic.”

“Dude, I don’t know where it’s been.”

“It’s been on an entirely different plane of existence of which your mind cannot even fully comprehend.”

“Um.” You let that sink in for all of three seconds before you prepare another retort. “Alright, fine, but you don’t know where _I’ve_ been.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Okay,” you say with a heavy sigh. “But don’t come crying to me if your dick starts oozing, I dunno’, rainbow sprinkles and cream cheese or whatever gross things monster dicks ooze when they have unprotected sex with humans.”

He raises an eye ridge. “…What kind of monster dicks have you been fucking around with?”

“None, yet.” You grind yourself against his lap, bringing forth a deep-throated guttural sound from Sans. “But I’m hoping to change that soon.”

You begin unbuckling your pants, sliding both them and your underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. You don’t bother with your shirt. As long as it’s not blocking the cocking it can stay right where it is.

When you look back down at Sans he’s got that smug look on his face again.

Your eyes narrow. “What?”

“So I’m your first monster, huh?” His grin widens.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just the first monster I’ve come across who’s gross enough to want to sleep with a human.”

“If _I’m_ gross and _you’re_ the one who propositioned me, what does that say about _you_?”

“Hey now, I never said I _wasn’t_ gross.”

To emphasize exactly how gross you are, you raise your body just enough so that his dick’s pressing against your crotch instead of your stomach. You move yourself up and down, panting just a bit as you get lost in the feeling of hot skin-on-magic-ectoplasm-dick contact. He’s so slick and you’re feeling so hot inside that you bet you could take him without any lube. Maybe not your best thought but you can hardly be blamed if you’re not thinking clearly at the moment.

You raise your hips just a little higher and hover over him, lightly pressing down so the tip is just barely entering you. You stay there a moment, teasing, gyrating your hips so his dick is circling your entrance.

“So, you gonna’ put some meat on my bones or what?”

You blink. “Did you just—?”

You’re cut off as his phalanges dig into the yielding flesh of your hips and forcibly tug you down until he’s sheathed to the hilt inside you.

“FUCK! Give a little warning next time!”

“Here’s a warning: you’re about to take a ride on the D-train.” A quick thrust of Sans’ hips and you’re seeing stars. “Next stop, the Bone Zone.”

“Choo choo!” you shout enthusiastically, already willing to forgive Sans for his complete and utter lack of proper bedroom etiquette as long as he keeps hitting that sweet spot that makes your vision go white around the edges. You feel so full and the painful stretch of his intrusion is already dimming down to a pleasant burn that makes your whole body tingle with warmth and your toes curl with pleasure. You’re so immersed in the feeling that you miss whatever it is that Sans is saying to you.

You blink through half-lidded eyes. “Huh?”

“You enjoying yourself?” he repeats with a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You nod your head enthusiastically. “You feel so good inside of me.”

“What can I say?” He pauses to lightly tap the thick bone of his ribcage. “I’m ribbed for your pleasure.”

You’re not sure if you’re groaning from the joke or from the hot dick filling you up so nicely. You increase your pace a smidgen and decide that you must be groaning at the dick because another drawn-out groan forces its way out the back of your throat as you bounce up and down on his lap like a jackhammer.

You shift the position of your hips and he hits something in you that has you seeing stars. “Fuck,” you pant under your breath. One of your hands slips under your shirt to brush your chest and tweak at a nipple, the other rests just a bit above where you and Sans are joined so you can touch yourself to the rhythm of your thrusting hips.

“Holy shit.” Sans is alternating between watching your hands as you work yourself and looking at where his dick keeps moving in and out of you. A trail of drool drips down his chin. “Holy shit,” he repeats.

You’re rutting eagerly against his hips, so hot and bothered and desperate to get off. You’re not even thinking of his pleasure at this point, just selfishly chasing your own orgasm with an animal-like ferocity. You bite your bottom lip, eyes closed tight as you work yourself as hard as you can _and it’s still not enough_.

“You still doing okay up there?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, eyes still closed and teeth still chewing on your lip. “I just gotta’… I just want to cum so bad. I wanna’ cum on your fat dick so, _so_ bad.”

You peek an eye open at the sound of Sans' hitched breath and you swear—even with your sex-hazed vision—that the lights in Sans’ eye sockets shift into the shape of little hearts.

He reaches down, brushing your hand out of the way so he can take over rubbing at your slick flesh. Normally those bony fingertips would probably be too hard and uncomfortable to get you off but right now you’re so far gone that any added stimulation brings you closer to release. You bring your newly-freed hand to your chest to pinch and tweak at your neglected nipple as you buck against Sans’ hips.

You moan out something that might be his name.

“This is so hot.” Sans’ eyes are shut as he leans up to press the top of his skull to your stomach. “Why haven’t we been doing this earlier?”

“I told you, dude,” you grunt. “Scientists are baffled.”

He makes a sound between a laugh and a breathy whimper as his hips thrust up against you erratically. “I’m gonna’ cum,” he groans, the tips of his phalanges digging into your hips deep enough to bruise. “Tell me where you want it.”

“I swear to god, Sans, if you pull out now when I’m _this goddamn close_ then I’m going to hold you down and ride your stupid fucking mouth until your jaw falls off.”

Beads of sweat roll down the sides of his skull. “That’s… not exactly a deterrent.”

“ _Sans_ ~!” you whine, mouth hanging open and eyes struggling not to close because you’re _so damn close_. “Please!”

“If you keep making cute faces like that, I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Shut up, I’m not cute. I’m a— _fuck_ ,” you interrupt yourself with a high-pitched whimper. “I’m a goddamn sexual tiger.”

“Holy fucking shit, you’re adorable.”

“NoooOOOOoooo,” you whine as a particularly well-aimed thrust hits a spot that has the edges of your vision turning white.

“Yeeeeesssssss!” he shouts, though you’re not sure if it’s in response to your protests or to the way your insides are squeezing around him. He grabs your hips and holds you down on his dick as he cums, hot liquid gushing against your inner walls. You whimper as you attempt to grind your hips against him. You’re so, so, _so_ close and you want to cum so bad!

Sans leans his back against the couch, looking satisfied and relaxed. You only wish you could say the same. As he comes down from his high, his breaths evening out despite the fact that he probably doesn’t need to breathe in the first place, you whine while your hips attempt to buck against his lap as you desperately chase after your own orgasm. Unfortunately you have no such luck.

Still, while Sans might be exhausted, he’s still hard inside of you; one of the benefits of fucking someone whose dick is made from magic. You plant your hands on his collarbone to use as leverage as you frantically force yourself on his cock.

Your constant shuffling and needy sounds rouse Sans from his post orgasmic haze. He eyes you with a lazy smile from his reclined position. He looks at you with something akin to reverence as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick, bouncing up and down in his lap as you mindlessly seek out your own completion. 

“You need some help there, buddy?” he asks. The look in your eyes must be desperate because he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Don’t worry, pal. I’ll lend you a hand.”

The tips of his phalanges trail up your inner thigh, tiptoeing across your skin until the heel of his palm is pressing to your front and you’re hit with another spark of pleasure that _almost_ makes you cum. With this added stimulation, you think you must be well on your way to a satisfying end

Finish line in sight, you begin to hump into his lap a little more earnestly. You’re tired and sweaty and you think you might be getting a cramp but all of that comes second to the white hot feeling building up inside your stomach and between your toes and behind your eyeballs.

Sans continues to trace his fingers along the sensitive flesh just above where you’re joined. His second hand crawls up your body to trace his fingers along your entrance, circling the hot flesh as you continue to take his dick in and out. He presses along your opening and, briefly, you think he’s going to try and force his fingers in with his dick. He doesn’t; just continues to rub and prod against your sensitive body.

“You ready to cum yet?” he asks.

You release a frustrated moan as you continue to bounce on his dick.

“Maybe you just need a change of pace. I bet you’d cum real fast on my tongue.”

“Sans,” you say with a grunt as you eye his teeth critically. “You don’t have a tongue.”

“You didn’t think I had a dick either,” he says as he slowly opens his jaw. You watch with heavy eyelids as something blue and glowing and absolutely _dripping_ with vicious-looking drool comes out of Sans’ mouth to sweep along his front teeth. “Shows what you know.”

You stare at the magic tongue in awe. It’s slimy and nasty-looking and it _shouldn’t_ be hot but thinking of that gross thing inside of you makes something in you _snap_. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you release a sound from deep in your throat that could only be described as a full-blown whore moan.

You collapse on top of Sans, sweat-slick bangs sticking to your forehead as you press your face into his collarbone. You take a moment to catch your breath, smiling dumbly as you rub your cheek into the material of Sans’ hoodie. His dick is still inside you but you don’t quite have the energy to pull yourself off it.

“That was nice,” you say on an exhale of air. “ _This_ is nice.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, sounding equally breathless.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying the way your body bonelessly slumps against his. Your insides still flutter around him as you bask in the afterglow. Briefly, you wonder if Sans might be up for another round after a short break.

“Hey,” Sans breaks the silence.

“Hmm?”

You lift your head and turn towards him just in time to have a toothy skeleton grin nuzzle itself against your lips. You can feel your eyes widening and your face rushing with blood while Sans just laughs at the offended look on your face.

“Goddamnit Sans, I told you not to make it _weird_!”


End file.
